When I need to write
All else becomes background noise
Til my poem's birth.

Poems write themselves
Seemingly out of nowhere
Whenever they choose.

E. Auger 4/28/14

you haven’t touched your food.  

the soul has windows
it doesn’t need.  

failure to thrive
has come to mean
the growing
you do
at night.  

when jailed
I thought of nothing
but my cell
and I thought of my cell
as a crib
without a heaven.  

your mother’s dark hair
is hard to swallow.  

I am secretly happy
that you’ve taken
an egg

for each day of your life

to a doll
so doll
can sleep.  

as your mother, I often follow
a black
ball of yarn

into the lake
of how
you remember.

it's nearer than we think.
we swear under our breaths
and see blisters before they form, but
we just need to pick our feet up
and start
walking.

In the event I burst
into flames, let me burn

Today I grant myself
permission
to eat and drink
what I enjoy,
ignoring all the nay-sayers.

I will do nothing all day
if I choose,
Take an afternoon nap
read a book until dawn,
get up at noon if I so desire.

My house can stay messy
for all I care
while I let my mind wander,
amusing itself
in random pursuits.

After all, I'm retired,
I can do what I like,
someone said.
Yes, I can and I will--
No apologies forthcoming.

Eileen Auger
4/29/14

who knows how these things start.  some animalistic girl with the air of donation sits beneath the kind of playground slide could convince nowhere of a middle while two boys with cardboard swords keep each of us from the ladder unless we allow her to bite us on the arm.  pretty soon we’re in math class showing each other how many times we went down and pretty soon our younger siblings are smacked or hungry or puckered from being bathed.  some of us run out of room while some of us have two good legs.  some of us pull at our mothers as if all prayed out of playmates.  the girl goes weeks without god before giving in.  her swordsmen move on to pocket knives and loitering.  you see her in the food court of the mall sitting with her wheelchair bound father and brother and tell us there’s no magic that pushes them both.